


In the end, the martyr's alone

by fallingsuns



Series: Bad things happen to good people [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingsuns/pseuds/fallingsuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders always loved her, will always love her. She was his savior, his everything. She understood his drive, his crusade. She was the one represented everything that he, that Justice had worked for. Until she met him. Betrayal and anger are strong emotions, and as the years pass by he finds it harder and harder to seperate his feelings from Justice's own drive. Then one day, after the timely arrival of a familar face, he nolonger has too. What follows next no one would have ever guessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the end, the martyr's alone

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own, never will!
> 
> so, quick thing, this is not word for word what happens in your DA2 game, it can never happen in your DA2 game. That is why it is called a story. 
> 
> This particular story has the events of DA2 in it, with slight modifications, etc. It also references my other story, Without and end there can be no peace, which you can find under the Series button.

He feels an overwhelming sense of relief when that final coin is hits Hawke's palm. Despite all that had happened with that horrible Patrice woman she lets out a laugh, the sound echoing off the abandoned alleys of Lowtown. Her face is smudged with dirt and dried blood and her hair, dark red, is tangled and knotted and half way falling out of her braid. She's smiling, shaking him out of his thoughts, and her eyes, bright green like the most dangerous snake, shinned bright under the moonlight.

She's the most beautiful thing Anders has ever seen.

 

When she asks him to go to the Deep Roads with her, he says yes in a heartbeat. He hates the Deep Roads, hates the way the walls close in on him, pushing and pushing until all that's left is a flattened Anders pancake. But then he remembers the way she laughs at the jokes that Varric tells, or the way her hair tumbles down her back when she lets it down. Justice approves of her as well, loves the way she can make the ground shake with a mere raise of her arms, or the way a ball of lightening flies from her hand and hits her target with perfect precision. And then there's the way she believes in mage's rights, the way that she helped Feynriel escape, and how later she lied to the Templars to allow the group of Apostates to escape.

“Hawke! Glad to see you made it.” Ander's is sitting with Varric, the dwarf polishing Bianca carefully.

“Course I made it Varric, where else was I going to go?” There are blue strings twisted into her braid, a gift from Carver, judging by the way the two of them are getting along.

“I don't know Hawke, maybe you decide to run off into the ocean blue...” The dwarf grins at the two siblings. “Come along Hawkes, we've got people to talk to and my brother to annoy.”

They spend the morning talking to various people, and Anders spends most of time spacing out. By the end of the day Bartrand's given what he considers a positive speech, but what the apostate thinks  is simply bad taste.

The second they step into the Roads Anders feels the compressing fear, hears the chattering of the Darkspawn in his head. He feels Justice pounding at his head, clambering to get out, screaming at him to avenge all the souls that were lost, that had died down here. Then she catches his eye, and she smiles, the edges of her eyes lifting up, and in that moment, it's all gone. Justice is relaxed, a calm purring instead of angry screams.

They mow a path through the Deep Roads, and soon enough they find the vault, the idol that created by something unnatural. Bartrand walks in, and suddenly there's the thrum of Justice beneath his skin, the thrum that means danger. Varric tosses the idol to Bartrand, and suddenly the four of them are running towards the door, each of them screaming. Hawke's voice rises above the rest, the desperate plea hitting him like a wave.

Anger swells up in him, and the thrumming turns in full blown shrieking. The world becomes filtered and slow, the way it always does when Justice takes control. He sees columns and rocks flying through the air, toward the door. Then he sees them. Pressed up against the door, unable to get out of the way. He sees Carver grab his sister, pulling her up against the door, covering her with his body in some desperate, and futile attempt. They fall, like dominoes and Anders feels panic creeping up on him, dampening Justice, pushing him away and making the shrieking go away. There's movement from the pile, and suddenly a red head pushes herself up and then there's a rock flying towards his face.

When he wakes up he doesn't remember a thing. What he does remember is Hawke's face hovering above him, a trail of dried blood on her left cheek. She smiles, helping him to his feet. When he asks her what happened to her head she only smiles again, shaking her head and saying something about a cave in. Carver and Varric are there too, both of them are sitting where the idol once was, with blood on the faces.

“We need to find another way out.” Hawke leads them towards the back door, a slight limp hampering her steps.

They make their way through the twisting tunnels and she looks so confident, so sure that they're going to make it out alive, that doubt never crosses his mind. Her hair is frizzy and the blue strings that had been so meticulously braided into her hair are the only things that remain untouched by their adventure. When they meet the Hunger Demon Anders feels the anger rush through him again, Justice demanding that they remove the abomination, and all those who would deal with him, immediately. But then she says no. Like an avenging angel she refuses, and when the wraiths attack them she flings her arms up, lightening flaring up and hitting the wraiths, knocking them against the now shaking ground.

His entire body hurts. As they climb the stairs Anders can feel a twinge of pain in his chest. He knows that he should heal it, but there's really no time, Hawke's already pushed ahead into the chamber. He runs to catch up, his heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline and Justice pushing faster, faster and when he and Carver tumble into the room, he freezes. Standing there is the Ancient Rock Wraith, bellowing and causing the whole room to shake. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hawke and Varric, half hidden behind a column. She's tense, her eyes darting around looking for something to use to their advantage. Then she spots them, her eyes widening in fear.

“Anders! Carver! Get behind that column now!” Her voice is raspy from all the dirt she's inhaled.

For a split second Anders is torn. The rational part of him demands that he get behind that column, that he and Carver wait until Hawke tells them what to do next. Yet there's another part, Justice, who demands that he stand and fight damn it, that he wipe this miserable creature of the face of the-

There's a flare of pain throughout his chest as something heavy hits him, knocking him to the ground. There's a spike of anger but it's quickly dampened out by a haze of pain. He shakes his head, struggling to get the world back on track. His hands glow blue, and suddenly the world seems a little clearer. He sees Carver, crouched behind the column, and he crawls towards him.'

“Glad to see you're up and running again.” Carver gives him a quick look over before focusing again on the fight. “Sister! What's the plan?”

Hawke shouts something back, flinging herself back against the column as the red light begins again. She and Varric are talking, their heads leaning close together. Then he hugs the very edge of the column, Bianca held close to his chest. She signals something to Carver now, her hands moving at a rapid speed. When they're done Carver turns to face him, his face set and determined.

“Here's the plan Mage. When the red light stops I'm going to charge in and attack it. However, the red light will eventually start up again, and even though there's a column nearby I might not make it in time. Therefore it's your job to make sure I get there, get it?” Carver looks at him, and the second Anders nods his head the warrior moves the very edge.

The second the red light stops everyone springs into action. Varric darts over to a slight incline, arrows flying across the chamber while Hawke herself steps out from behind the column, a ball of lightening already forming in her palm. Immediately after, Carver gives him a harsh nudge before launching himself out towards the Wraith. The fight is long, and with each passing second Justice becomes more and more dominant, the filter paper beginning to cover his vision. Finally, when everything starts getting slow, and the smoke starts to form, Hawke lunges from behind the column, her staff swinging around in front of her. A large burst of lightening hits the Wraith, before a huge rock, courtesy of the ground around them, hits it dead on. The Wraith begins to crumple in on itself, and Hawke flings her palm up, covering herself in a dome of rock and earth as one last flare covers the room. The earth around her buckles a little under the pressure and panic bubbles up in his chest, pushing Justice to front of his mind. He pushes himself against the column, his hands clutching his staff to his chest.

Then it stops. The room is deathly quiet, and the three of them rush to the center of the room. Suddenly there's a cracking noise and the dome falls away to reveal a very dirty, but so very alive Hawke. Varric rushes forward, helping her to her feet. There's a flash of annoyance that's quickly tampered by the feel of Hawke's hand on his shoulder. He turns to face her, and her face is smudged with even more dirt and blood and parts of her hair is hanging around her face and yet she looks so determined, so amazing, that suddenly Justice seems so far away. They make their way towards the door, and when they find the cache of gold Hawke and Varric begin talking a mile a minute, and they all fill their bags with what they can, and mark what they can't so they can come back later.

“Come on Hawke, as long as we keep walking this way we ought to make it to the surface in no time.” Varric sends her a reassuring smile, and that flare of annoyance comes back but this time it's stays, settling above his chest and causes Justice's thrumming to become an irritated hum.

Anders assumes that the worst is behind them. He was so wrong.

 

It's the third day of walking, and they're all walking at a much slower pace. Varric leads the way, and it's been a while since anyone's said anything. Hawke speeds up slightly to whisper something to Varric, causing the dwarf to laugh. The pang of annoyance is back, higher than ever. It consumes him, Justice pushing incessantly at the back of his mind, demanding to be allowed forward. The anger, the urge, is the strongest it's been since the first time he and Justice merged minds.

“Carver!” Hawke's panicked voice shakes him from his thoughts. She dashes by him, grabbing Carver's hand. “Anders do something, please!”

Anders drops the ground next to her, his hands glowing blue. Nothing works, and anger fills his veins. He feels a hand on his shoulder, and it brings him back to the world of the living.

“I can't do anything, it's not working.” He sighs, curling his hands into fists. “I think....I think it's taint.”

“No....no, no, no.” She whispers, taking Carver's hands in hers. “There must be something we can do!”

“He won't make to the top, hell, we might not make it to the top.” Varric kneels down on the other side of Hawke. “There's nothing we can do.”

“That's not true.” Anders interjects, forgetting that he was suppose to keep this a secret, that the one thing that was critical was that they never found out, that they never knew what he'd done. Once he remembers he tries to think of an excuse, of a reason, and a way to back up. But then he looks up. She's looking at him, with tears in her eyes and so, so much hope. “There's a group of Warden's down here. I don't know what they're doing but....they're the ones I stole the maps from.”

“You can take us to them? And they'll accept Carver?” She looks up at him, her hands tightly holding her brothers'

“I believe so, yes.”

 

While Carver and Hawke are trying, quite badly, to say goodbye, Stroud pulls him aside. Anders, and Justice in particular, get tense, and the shrieking is starting to grow. However the Orlesian doesn't do anything, doesn't even get in his personnel space. He just stands there, the other Wardens preparing for the ritual.

“If it wasn't for the boy.....” The thick ascent coats his words, making them hard to understand. “We are even Anders. Don't ever come near us, or the Wardens, ever again.”

A young elf Warden interrupts them, beckoning Stroud away with a whisper in his ear. The others follow, two of them supporting Carver as they walked away. Anders just stands there, watching as they all fade into the black.

“Anders?” He jumps when he feels a touch on his arm. Hawke's standing there, the tear streaks on her face the only clean part on her face. She steps closer, and suddenly he has his arms full of warm body, red hair under his chin. “Thank you, for saving Carver.”

“You're welcome.” He whispers, wrapping his arms around her waist. She pulls away a moment later, a small smile on her face.

 

Three years pass by in a blur, Anders becoming more active in the Mage Underground and less active with his clinic. Hawke visits occasionally, usually accompanied by either Varric or Aveline. But sometimes she's alone, coming down “just to chat.” as she says. On the day the Vicount calls for her, however, is when things begin to change once more.

He's in the clinic one morning, treating a young boy who claimed he fell down the stairs leading to Lowtown. He doesn't really believe him, but had long ago decided that it wasn't his job to force the truth from anyone's lips. The door then creaks open, and the young man leaps out a rather unmanly yelp when he sees the visitors.

“Messah Hawke!” The boy flounders for a moment, and the name draws Anders' attention. “I...it's a....what...”

“It's good to see you again Hawke.” Anders cuts the poor boy off, taking in the other mage's appearance.

The three years had been kind to the young woman. Her new found wealth had allowed her to take better care of herself. Her hair, while always well taken care of, was now able to be properly combed and conditioned, while her face was rarely, if ever, speckled with the once constant dirt. Today there were strands of golden thread twisted in her braid, and she was dressed in a nice set of leather armor, accompanied by the ever constant staff on her back. She smiles at him, stepping forward into the clinic.

“Anders! We need to talk to you.” It was then he noticed her companions. Varric, an ever constant presence at her side, and Fenris, the moody elf that shared none of Anders' opinions and served only to cause Justice severe irritation.

“Of course, anything for you Hawke.” He flashes her a grin as he pats the various stools that scatter the clinic. “Just sit down and start, I'm listening.”

“The Vicount called for me this morning.” The three of them settle down on three stools. “The Arishok has to speak to me, personally.”

“The Arishok? Hawke.....that's serious. There's been whispers of, only rumors mind you, of uneasiness among The Docks.”

“I know. I want you with me, when I go to figure out what it is he wants.” Hawke smiles up at him, her eyes just a tiny bit more jaded than they were three years ago, the only evidence of what went happened down there.

“Of course I'll come, I'll always come when you call Hawke.” He smiles at her before making his way towards the back of the clinic. “Just allow me to grab a few things.”

“It's no rush Anders, I'll wait for you in here.” She sends him a smile before nodding at Varric and Fenris. Varric waves cheerily as he and Fenris leave. “How....how is the Underground going?”

“Things keep getting worse, I had Templars practically on my doorstep the other night!” It's like something is set off in him, revealing a side that had previously been hidden away.

“Have....have Templars been asking around? Do they suspect anything?” She steps forward, her eyes scrunched up nervously, her hand on his shoulder.

“No...not yet anyway.” He shakes his head, feeling the anger boiling up in him, climbing it's way to the top. “But what if she goes after you? You're not exactly keeping it a secret.”

“Anders, I'll be fine. You don't need to worr-” He cuts her off, his eyes already blue and the smoke already billowing around him.

“I'd drown us in blood to keep you safe!” He whispers, looking at her desperately, trying to make her understand.

“You're getting in too deep, and I....I can't follow.” She whispers, stepping closer to him. She rests her hands on his shoulders, her bright emerald eyes just inches away from his. He can smell her perfume, a faint floral smell that's tinged with something he can't quite place.

“I would have only hurt you.” The words come out him mouth unexpectedly, and there's shock in her eyes. “It's better this way.”

He wished he believed those words.

 

The next three weeks pass in a hazed blur. Hawke makes her way though all of the Arishok's demands, and somehow comes out alive. He sees how the past three years have changed her more clearly now that they are in battle, and his earlier belief that the years had only been kind to her was no longer accurate. While physically she looked better than ever, it was in her fighting that the wear began to show. While once she had hesitated before flinging a lightening bolt, or even a boulder, she now flung her wrist forward preemptively, cutting off the attacks of her opponent. She also now controlled merely the force around them, forcing her enemies into the air before viciously slamming them on the ground.

Then came Patrice. Like a bad virus you can't quite shake, she reappeared, destroying what little peace there was. The murder of Saemus Dumar set forth a night that could never be forgotten. For more reason than one. Hawke had returned home only to find Aveline and Isabela, two friends of Hawke's that Anders had never particularly gotten along with, arguing in her living room. Upon hearing whatever it was that they told her, she turned around and ran off with the two of them immediately, stopping only to pick up Varric from the Hanged Man.

So that left Anders alone. Alone and standing in front of Hawke's door. He had meant to come and talk to her about the Underground, about Ella. Forcing off a bitter feeling in his chest, he turned and made his way back to Darktown. When he reached the clinic the first thing he noticed was the lock. Rusty, and not effective against anyone more experienced than the average thief, the lock was something he had picked up when he first reached Kirkwall. It wasn't that it was broken, per say, because he had been expecting that for a while now. It was rather the way the lock was broken. A sharp, controlled tug had broken the lock without destroying any of it's pieces. In fact, if the burglar had simply put it back in place, Anders might not have even noticed. But he did. Stepping into the clinic his eyes immediately fell onto a cloaked woman kneeling down at the bottom of the bookcase.

“Who are you?” He demanded, feeling Justice angrily pushing at his mind. He steps forward, pressing forward into the room. “Answer me intruder, before I lose my patience.”

“Someone you thought was dead.” The voice, jagged with ice and anger, hits him like a tidal wave.

He pauses, feeling panic welling up in chest, Justice pounding at his ears. She's beautiful, but then again she always was. A beautiful, elegant archer who could hit a target from miles away. She's not in any armor now, and he doesn't know what she's doing here, what she's doing _**alive**_ , her and Nate, the explosion in the Keep, they ought to be dead.

“Warden-Commander....I-what are you doing here?” He barely stammers out, feeling his hands fall limply to his sides.

“We got a new recruit a few years back, Stroud brought him in when the Free Marsh expedition was done. Funny story he had.”

Her voice remains icy, and he's so busy focused on the fact that, damn, the Warden Commander is here, is alive and standing in his clinic, in Kirkwall, that he fails to notice at first what's happening. Then he does, noticing the way she's edging towards the door, the fact that she's unarmed. He feels all the anger, all the hurt that he had once thought was buried long ago, come out. Justice is shrieking in his head, demanding, pushing, until finally he's out, but this time, this time Anders doesn't see anything through the filter paper, on the outside, this time he's there, caught up in Justice's anger and vengeance. They chase her through the streets, watching as she flings herself around the corner, proving herself to be a ever capable fighter.

They finally catch up to her at the gate. She's stopped, her eyes wide as she takes in Kirkwall burning. He's so caught up in it all, in finally taking revenge on the one who didn't stand up for him, who allowed that Templar into her ranks, that he forgets one important thing. She's the Warden Commander. He reaches for his dagger, takes his eyes off her but for a moment, and next thing he knows there's a pain in his stomach and he's the one on the floor. There's a dagger pressed into his, their, throat. She leans in close and whispers in his ear, her words hurting but for a moment before Justice takes control. But he doesn't care. He knows that they, Justice, missed his chance. She's too clever to not know what he's about to-

Everything fades to black, and when he awakes Kirkwall's done burning.

 

He spends the next several years secluded in his clinic, haunted by the memories of Ella and Mahariel. He struggles to control Justice, oftentimes destroying in his clinic in the process. He struggles to forget how alive he felt that night. He dreams of her, of her red hair and her green eyes and how she understands him, understands the struggles of the mages. He remembers how he told it was better this way, that she didn't get involved. He remembers how wrong it felt, how wrong it still feels. He holds himself together for a little while, reminding himself of his plan, of how nothing, not even her, can get in the way of it. Yet it is the plan, in the end, that is his downfall.

He calls for her, and when he comes he lies, tells her about how he wants to separate from Justice. He sees that happiness in her eyes, the way she tells how she's happy he's made this decision, how right she feels it all is. They go down into the sewer, alone. They spend hours searching until finally, he has enough. She laughs, hugging him tightly despite the fact that they both smell of sewage. They go back to the clinic, and as they attempt to clean up, wiping their faces and arms with a cloth as they talk, he tells her of how proud, how happy, he is that she's made a name for herself, that she's become the idol that all mages should look up to.

“That's sweet Anders.” She smiles at him, pausing in her futile attempts to clean the silver threads in her braid. “I'm happy that you think of me that way.”

He smiles back, and in that moment he knows he's lost.

 

A few hours later she's waving goodbye, giving him one last smile before walking down the stairs. _The stairs, Mahariel running down, flinging herself around the column.....the grunt when he hit her with ice, the sheer panic that clouded her features as he stared down at her, the way Justice, and by extension, him, felt a sick sort of satisfaction. A grunt, his or her's he can' tell. The sharp pain in his stomach as she kicks him, hard. Then-_ Nothing. Brought back to the world roughly, Anders feels a dull throb in his stomach, a reminder of what the Commander left him. He turns around and goes back into the clinic, alone. Alone....he doesn't want to be alone anymore. He wants to be with Hawke, with the beautiful woman who's become such a icon for mage's rights, freedoms, who's everything that he could ever want. He tosses in his bed, finally coming to a decision. She will understand when he tells her of what must be done, she will love him and stand with him as he makes sure that there will never be another compromise.

He walks up to Hightown, hiding in the shadows and waiting until the guards walk by. He makes his way up to the Hawke Mansion, so quiet now that Leandra's gone. Knocking quietly, he waits, hearing footsteps coming closer. He imagines her hair, wild and crazy from sleeping, the way her green eyes are glazed with sleep. The door creaks open, and he becomes excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Messah Anders!” Bodahn's voice shakes Anders from his thoughts. A flash of annoyance, one that's harder to get rid of, flares up. “Messah Hawke is not here at the moment, however I do believe she went to visit Messah Fenris if you wish to catch up.”

A flare of anger crosses his mind, stronger than anything. Yet he controls himself, forcing him to nod, say something polite, before he runs off. Sneaking into Fenris' mansion is unbelievably easy, and he instantly hears voices in the room above. He sneaks over to right behind the door, and looks in.

The world, or the Chantry at least, wishes he hadn't.

 

Lying on the rug next to the fire, Hawke's body glows under the light. Her head's tilted back, her face contorted in pleasure as her hands tightened their grip in the white hair above her. Fenris rolls his hips, and a moan escapes her lips, a sound that goes straight to Anders' nether regions. Pulling her close, the elf kisses her, long and loving and from what Anders' can see, with a lot of tongue. She shudders, flipping them around so that she was on top, and giving Anders a oh so nice view of her ass. Bouncing up and down, Anders watches at the former slave's hands squeezed her breasts, rolls her nipples between his fingers. The mage shoves his hand in his robes, giving his own erection a harsh squeeze. He bites his lip, not allowing the moans to move past his lips. Several minutes pass this way, until Fenris gasps, his face contorting. They smile at each other, and her smile is so open, so free, that Anders stifles a growl.

“I have missed you...” The elf buries his face in her dark red hair, his hands drawing circles on her hips.

“As I have missed you.” She whispers, tightening her grip on his waist. “I'm so happy we finally talked, the past years have felt so empty. If it hadn't been for Varric....”

A wave of anger, sadness and betrayal washes over Anders and it's so intense that he reaches out blindly towards the wall for stability. Varric? The dwarf? How dare she claim that he is a better friend than Anders? That he is the one who has helped her, has been by her side? Anders has done everything for her, for their cause! Fury erupts from his chest now, blinding him and causing him to grip the wall tighter. She chooses that mage hater, that elf, over him? When he has given her the world? When he was going to give her the greatest gift that any mage could ever offer? He's so full of anger and hate and betrayal that he misses Fenris' last words.

“I must remember to thank him then.” Fenris grins, pulling her close once more. He kisses her again, and his hands drift lower.

He sits by that door for at least another hour. When he leaves there is only one thought in his head.

He hates him more than anything in this world.

 

“Why? Can't you at least tell me?” Her voice, pleading with him as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “Anders, I can help you if you'll just let me in!”

“Tell me Hawke, are you a true supporter? Or are you just words, not willing to do the dirty work?” His chest still throbs, and his anger allows the words to come out.

She looks bewildered and hurt, her eyes wide as she looks at him. “How dare you suggest that I, after all I've done for you, what I did with Ella!”

“Prove it Hawke. Help me and prove it.” His voice is cold, and her eyes widen a little more before they harden over, becoming sharp emeralds.

“Fine. But don't think I'll ever forget how you blackmailed me into this.” She whispers, her voice taking on a hard, flat edge.

Don't think he'll ever forget how she looked at him at that day.

 

“Meredith, stop this now!” Hawke runs forward, the black threads in her braid catching Anders' attention. “Please, there is still a chance to be reasonable!”

“The Grand Cleric will decide your fate!” Meredith steps forward, intent on getting inside the Chantry. Hawke and Orsino continue to argue, each of them following the Templar up the stairs.

“No!” Anders shouts, and they all turn to look at him. Meredith stares at him with contempt, while Orsino's eyes hold nothing but plain, naive curiosity. But Hawke, Hawke's eyes are the ones he looks at. Confused, with a hint of annoyance, he stares deep into them as he says his next words. “There can be no more compromises!”

The explosion is loud, and all of the others, Varric, Isabela, and Merrill, all turn around to look, and when they see, to try and desperately run to cover. She doesn't. She stands there, her eyes focused on him alone, for the first time since they met. This time though, he doesn't see the curiosity, the excitement, the determination. This time he sees first confusion, then shock, and finally betrayal.

“HAWKE!” Varric screams, dropping Bianca and making a mad dash towards her. He never stops running, Anders realizes vaguely. He simply wraps his arms around her waist and they both fall, the dwarf covering her body as the debris rained down.

They all lay there, Meredith and Orsino sprawled across the ground, while Isabela had somehow managed to land on feet, and therefore had dragged a fallen Merrill behind a wagon. Varric and Hawke simply lay on the ground, the dwarf whispering something in her ear and receiving a shaky nod in response.

Then it ends. The debris stops falling and everyone jumps up. He settles himself down on a crate, his back facing the others. He hears the yelling but doesn't really take in the words, doesn't really care anymore. It had to be done, and when all the yelling was over, she would understand. There are other footsteps, and suddenly there's Aveline, crushing Hawke to her as she rants about leaving her behind. Fenris is not far behind, and as hard as he tries he can't block out the whispering between the two of them, the way his voice gets tender and soft. Then there's more talking, the other's voicing their opinions, bouncing points and ideas off of each other. It goes quiet, and he begins to wonder if they've all killed each other somehow. But then he hears something that sounds like a threat, and then there's the sound of Meredith's metal boots against the stone, the rough bark of her voice as she yells at her men. There's another noise, one that's foreign, and makes Anders, despite his intent, turn around. Standing there, in full Gray Warden armor, is Carver.

“Sister, I came as soon as I could.” Carver steps forward, reaching for his sister without even bothering to ask for permission. “I heard there was unrest from Mahariel and I wanted to come faster I swear it but the damn horse-”

“It's okay, you're here now, that's all that matters.” Carver crushes her against his chest, and Anders watches with growing jealousy how she wraps her arms around his waist, burying her head in her chest. “I-there is so much to say, Carver...”

“Later sister, after we stop the Templars.” The younger Hawke grins down at his sister, and Anders' feels another flare of jealousy at how the Wardens have changed him, made him a better man. “There will be plenty of time to talk this all over Sister, I promise you.”

She nods, hugging him closer before she steps back, wiping under her eyes with her hands. He sends her a reassuring grin before gently pushing towards the ruined Chantry, towards him. He watches as her face hardens, the happiness that had only moments before been present replaced with betrayal. She walks quickly towards him, and when she reaches him she yanks him to stand.

“What where you thinking?” She hisses, her eyes flashing angrily. “Do you know what you've done? The hundreds you've sentenced to die today?” 

Confusion hits him. She ought to be happy, or at least understanding. He did it for mage's rights, for the freedom of all those who had been forced into the circle. She should understand!

“Did you not hear me Anders?” She hisses, leaning in even closer. “Was this what you were planning when you asked me to talk to-by the Maker it was!”

“You ought to understand!” He finally finds his voice, the anger clear. “I did this for you. For us.”

“What? Us?” She tilts her head, and the confusion deepens, but this time hurt begins to seep in too, mixing and churning among her eyes. “Anders, I don't get what you're-”

“Us! You and me! Me and you!” He screams, pulling her closer to him, looking deep into her eyes. “Me and you, not you and him. Never you and him.”

“Anders.....I....please don't tell me that you did this for me?” She whispers, horror and tears growing in her eyes. “I thought you knew....”

“Knew what? That you were sleeping with that mage hater? Do you know what he would do to us if given the choice?” He hisses, so close to her now that their noses were touching. “I did this because you and me understand this was what was needed to be done. That this was the only future for us, for any mage out there. So yes, I did it for you.”

“By the Maker.....” She covers her mouth, a sob escaping her. “All that stuff you said when we were in the Sewers....I am no savior, no idol that you can put on a pedestal and stare at! I am a human being, and I have done everything in my power to help mages, to help you! Yet you can't see past the one little thing that I took for myself, the one thing that I didn't let this crusade of yours dictate!”

He growls, and an anger unlike anything he's every felt flows through him, filling in the crevices of his soul. He grabs her, and before any of them can react, before she can react, he's kissing her. It's all teeth and tongue, and it's horribly one sided. Pushing his tongue into her mouth he tastes her, lets himself run his tongue alone her teeth, mapping out her mouth on the one time, the only time, he'll be there. She simply stands there, limp in his grasp. He doesn't know if it's shock, or if it's pity but he doesn't care, it's his one shot and by the Maker he's going to take it. Air however, quickly becomes a necessary thing, and he's forced to pull away.

“I would have been better to you than he every was.” He whispers harshly, leaning in so that his breath rushed over her ear. “I loved you more than anyone, anything, in this world.”

“Obviously not more than anything.” She whispers back, and she steps back slowly, pity, sadness and tears clear in her eyes. “Or else you wouldn't have done this.”

He can't find the words to respond, and for the first time, even Justice is quiet.

 

She doesn't kill him, of course, and neither do any of her friends. Fenris, Aveline, Isabela and Anders run ahead to find a boat, the pirate captain teaching them how to hide their steps. It's obvious how disgusted with him they all are, Aveline and Isabela whispering quietly when they thought he wasn't looking. Carver, Varric and Merrill go with Hawke, and they fight their way through. Anders hears the roars of the ogres as they fall, the thud as the giant beasts crash against the stones. They are not waiting for more than ten minutes before they arrive, both Hawke's leading the way. They all sit close together, and by extension, far away from him. Fenris stands at the bow of the boat, looking out at the Gallows as if there was some great secret waiting for him. Hawke, Carver, Aveline and Varric all sit in a circle, while Isabela and Merrill lean against some crates. It's silent for the most part, the sounds of waves the only things that interrupt his thoughts. Fenris comes back towards them to announce that they are getting close, and Hawke gives him, gives everyone, a impish grin before standing up.

“Let's go get those sons of bitches.” Everyone laughs, and they all high five as they get ready to pile off the boat.

In the first time since arriving in Kirkwall, Anders feels utterly alone.

 

There's fire and smoke everywhere, and Anders feels lost and confused, but then it all stops. He watches as Cullen lets them go, watches as Carver wraps his arm around his sister's waist, Hawke's own arm around his shoulders. Varric is close behind them, his face dirty and a little bloody but otherwise unharmed. The two of them begin to slowly walk towards the gate of the Gallows, Aveline cradling her shield arm as Fenris walks by her side, her shield safely tucked under his arm. Merrill and Isabela follow closely behind, Merrill's voice standing out as she asks Isabela where it hurts. He rushes after them, lingering behind as they make their way towards the small boat at the dock. Carver goes first, gently helping Hawke into the boat, his voice gently chiding her when she moves too much. Varric hops in soon afterwords, supporting Carver's statement about Hawke not moving. Aveline protests weakly when it is her turn, saying something about Donnic and needing to go back. Fenris ignores her, picking her up and placing in the boat before following himself. It is slightly awkward for a moment before the elf's voice, low and now only for Aveline's ears, promises her he will come back for her husband. Merrill hops in next, grinning happily as Isabela follows, granted at a much slower pace. Anders steps forward, and his foot is on the boat before Carver manages to get Hawke to- “Sit still and let me deal with this sister, you need to let Merrill heal you.”. The Warden steps forward, and for a moment Anders can't remember when exactly the young, spoiled boy grew up and became a warrior, but Carver certainly was the latter.

“This is where we go our separate ways Mage.”  The Warden's voice is cold, and brokers no room for argument. “I know my sister said that she would not hurt you, and I stand by that promise. Yet we are now fugitives from the Chantry, a force that has no one base. There is only one way out.”

“I will go with you, I will do whatever is necessary to redeem-” Anders says, cut off by the Warden again.

“No. You may be able to redeem yourself in my sister's eyes, for I cannot speak for her. But I can speak for the Gray Wardens when I say you will never be forgiven.”

“You cannot take her to them!” Justice lurches within him again, anger rushing through his veins. “I will not let you!”

“You have no choice.” Carver stares him down, his eyes oh so like his sisters. “The Wardens is the one place where we will all be safe from the Chantry. I care not where you go Mage, or what you do. Farewell.”

With those words the Warden unties the rope, and the boat pushes away from the dock. Carver moves towards the tiller, letting loose the sail as he goes. Hawke, with a wince on her face that Anders can still see, crawls her way over to her brother, tugging on his tunic to get his attention. He watches as Carver looks down, a look of fond exasperation on his face as he runs his hand through her hair, the black threads hanging loose. Varric, just realizing now that Hawke had crawled away, comes tumbling after her. He watches Fenris comfort Aveline as he sets her arm, the proud woman's grimace as he pops the bone back. He binds it with a piece of white cloth, and Anders watches as his lips form words, something about always keeping promises. There's a glow around Isabela, Merrill nearby trying to heal the cuts that adorned the pirate's arms. They all look exhausted, their eyes slightly glazed over as they all sail away. Yet they all look happy to be with each, all catching each others eyes, a smile, small or large, on each of their lips.

They never once look back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Read and review! :)


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